


Innapropriate Timing

by QueSeraph



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Hannibal is a dick, Humiliation, M/M, Voice/whisper kink, Will is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22697521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraph/pseuds/QueSeraph
Summary: Nsfw. I just wanted to write something about Will getting humiliatingly hard whenever Hannibal whispers anything in his ear, no matter what he’s saying or what the circumstance is. ~
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66
Collections: Hannigram Pieces





	Innapropriate Timing

“I really shouldn’t be here.”  
“Will, they asked you to be here. Hang around for an hour to pay your respects and the family will feel eternally grateful.”  
“But…I didn’t even know her.”  
“You caught her murderer Will, that means something to her family.”  
“Jack…please, tell them you found it, tell them that stupid Tattler article was wrong.”  
“No. Relax Will, Hannibal will be here soon.”  
Jack pats his shoulder condescendingly and leaves and Will sighs.

_Doesn’t anyone know that he can control himself just fine without Hannibal?_

“He’s not my goddamn handler,” Will grumbles under his breath, kicking the rocks at his feet.

He’s standing behind the church as people trail in the front to the funeral. He hasn’t so much as been in a church since he was a kid and feels a little nervous, his anxiety doubled with each person who walks through the door.

This case had been a hard one, and only with his own obsessiveness did he manage to crack it. Turns out mailmen are even less trustworthy than their shorts imply.  
Then goddamn Freddy Lounds had snuck in and sprayed it all over the papers that Will had cracked the case single handedly, and by morning he had a handwritten invitation to the funeral.

A familiar car pulls up and Hannibal emerges from the Volvo, looking sharp as ever with a black suit under a long black trench. Hannibal reaches out and taps his elbow after walking over.  
“Shall we?”  
Will nods hesitantly and they walk around the entrance of the tiny church, and Will’s stomach rolls over at the sight of the heavy wooden cross on the wall but stands with Hannibal at the back just as the funeral begins.

First there are long speeches by weeping family members and friends, and Will has to stare at his shoes. They start up a religious hymn, thanking God for her life, and Will sees the killer’s face flash before his eyes. He mumbles along and averts his eyes.

“My Lord will….mmm carry me higher…”  
Will struggles with the words.

Hannibal leans over and whispers in his ear the correct words softly, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

Will’s stomach drops and his cheeks flush as he feels his cock twitches in his pants. He feels the blood rush to his face. He stutters and stops, his face and neck burning badly. Hannibal notices and looks over at him with worry, leaning in again to whisper, “Are you feeling alright?”

Will flushes deeper and realizes with mortification that he’s _achingly_ hard in his dress pants.

_God, I have a stiffy at a goddamn funeral…_

“I um… I don’t feel so good.” He murmurs to Hannibal, trying to slouch enough to hide the humiliating tent in his dress pants. He starts to shuffle towards the doors as inauspiciously as he can before Hannibal moves, and he freezes as he feels his clothed erection brush Hannibal’s leg.

Hannibal sets a solid hand on his shoulder and Will freezes, damning his body, but Hannibal only holds concern in his face.   
“Do we need to leave?”  
“N-no, I um, I’m fine, I’ve got it.”  
He shuffles awkwardly out of the doors and breaths a sigh of relief when the hallway is empty, fast-walking out the doors and into the wet, grey day.

He sits in his car and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to will his erection away. He cranks the air conditioning but isn’t in a good enough position to try to freeze his cock soft, and he pushes down on it with the heel of his hand, stuttering out a groan when even _that_ feels good. He closes his eyes and tries to clear his head but he can’t stop replaying the moment in his mind, Hannibal leaning over and whispering in his ear, his accent smooth and low, breath warm and stubble scratchy…

He looks around the empty parking lot guiltily before unzipping his pants and pulling himself through his boxers, breathing a sigh of relief with the loss of painful confinement.

Will bites his lip as he takes his cock in hand, fisting it in jerking movements as it throbs impossibly harder. He can’t remember the last time he did this, usually taking cold showers to quell his morning erections and the like, but it feels amazingly good, squeezing the head slightly as he leaks openly into his hand.  
He bites his lip harder and shuts his eyes hard, tipping his head back as he tugs himself clumsily. It feels wrong, to be doing this, in a _church parking lot_ of all places, but he can feel Hannibal breathing on his neck, can feel the sensual murmur in his ear..  
His stomach tightens and he curls forwards over the wheel, over his cock aching so badly for release, and for a moment it’s as if it’s Hannibal’s hand on his dick, urging him towards that wonderful pleasure like a live wire, the pressure building up in his stomach.  
His jaw snaps hard and his breath stutters out, shuddering as he cums. Jaw clenched and head smacking back against the headrest, his orgasm pulses through him, release spurting onto his fist and dribbling onto his thigh. Will’s body goes limp against the seat as he tries to catch his breath in desperate gasps. With his clean hand he reaches up and touches his lip where he bit hard enough to draw blood and sighs, wiping his dirty hand onto his already ruined pants and switching into drive just as the funeral gets out, and he pulls out onto the road, already concocting a story to explain his lip to Jack.


End file.
